


i will take your pain (and put it on my heart)

by banesapothecary (komhmagnus)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Bad Days, David Rose Deserves Nice Things, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Patrick Brewer is a Good Husband, Pillow & Blanket Forts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:34:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24265168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/komhmagnus/pseuds/banesapothecary
Summary: Patrick’s come to learn a lot of things about his husband, collecting bits and pieces of information over the years like he’s curating a museum on the intricacies of David Rose inside his own mind and heart.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 15
Kudos: 237





	i will take your pain (and put it on my heart)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from anon: "david is having a pretty bad/emotional day so Patrick makes a blanket fort in their living room and they eat junk food and watch all of David’s favorite rom coms becus Patrick is an amazing husband"
> 
> Title is from Hesitate by the Jonas Brothers

Patrick’s come to learn a lot of things about his husband, collecting bits and pieces of information over the years like he’s curating a museum on the intricacies of David Rose inside his own mind and heart. 

Some things are incredibly specific to detail, like the exact brand of toner David uses—down to the exact ingredients in it that do  _ “wonders, Patrick,” _ for his combination skin—and the second-best one he’ll tolerate if there’s no other choice. Some are easy to memorize, like his coffee order that sounds a bit more like the recipe for a very sweet witch’s potion.

Others are sweet and make Patrick’s heart swell with affection, like the fact that Patrick is the only person allowed to run his fingers through David’s hair, no matter how perfectly coiffed—and the fact that David falls asleep the easiest and with a smile on his face when Patrick trails his fingers through it when they're wrapped securely around each other late at night.

And others make Patrick’s heart hurt for the fact that there’s nothing he can do to change them: the hurt David’s endured in the past, the people who treated him abysmally, the anxiety and depression that still find ways to hit him like a brick wall.

David’s always had bad days for as long as Patrick’s known him, and Patrick suspects longer before that, too. He’s heard the story of Ted diagnosing his panic attack, after all. 

David’s bad days aren’t always the same. Some are easier, and he’s a little more anxious than usual. Those are manageable, and David’s gotten a lot better and a lot more comfortable communicating with Patrick on those days than he once was.

Some are  _ bad,  _ though. Every so often, David has a really bad day, one where all his anxiety and painful memories from over his years in New York crash down on him and he can barely move. David had tried to hide those days from him, once upon a time, and as much as it hurts Patrick to see David like this, he can't help but feel grateful that David trusts him enough to share this. He supposes it would be harder to hide now that they're married, but even still, David has grown so much more comfortable sharing his insecurities and vulnerabilities with Patrick. Patrick's proud of him, even if he wishes David never had to feel this way at all. Patrick would gladly take all of this weight off David's shoulders and heart to put it on himself.

Patrick knows as soon as he steps out of the steam-warmed bathroom, his hair still wet from the shower, that today is a bad day. He knows because David is still buried deep beneath the covers in a ball so tight, Patrick doesn’t think it could be at all comfortable.

David’s never been a morning person, and if it were earlier in their relationship, Patrick may have just assumed he’s still sleeping. But they’ve been married five months now, and Patrick knows better. He knows that the smell of the coffee in the kitchen is enough to draw interest from David, at the very least getting him awake and checking his phone if he’s not quite yet ready to get out of bed. And the smell of coffee  _ plus _ the knowledge that Patrick was in the shower, alone and always happy to receive company, is almost  _ always _ enough to get him fully out of bed.

“David,” Patrick says softly, moving to sit on his side of the bed. He rests a hand gently on the lump underneath the covers, not sure exactly which part of his husband he’s touching.

David doesn’t stir, but a small hum emerges from the sheets in acknowledgement.

Patrick’s lip twitches into a small smile at the sound. “I’ve got the store today. I’ll call at lunch, okay?”

David shifts under the covers, pulling the comforter and sheets down just enough for part of his face to peek out. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Patrick bends down to press a kiss to David’s forehead. “I love you. Call me or Stevie if you need anything, okay?”

David nods, squeezing his eyes shut. He pulls the covers over his face again.

Patrick squeezes his arm through the covers and stands, moving to finish getting ready. He grabs a pad of sticky notes from his drawer, scrawling out a quick note:  _ There’s a few muffins left, and leftover pizza is in the fridge. Please eat something. I love you. _

He sticks the note on their bathroom mirror, knowing eventually David will have to pull himself out of bed, and leaves the house as quietly as he can in case David’s already fallen back asleep.

***

David doesn’t call him. He doesn’t text, either, not that Patrick had really expected him to. Patrick can’t help but feel worried, though, and he takes the first opportunity that the store is empty to turn the sign to “Closed” and duck into the back room to call him. The phone rings for an unbearably long amount of time, which really only means 3 or 4 times, but Patrick is too worried to be patient.

“Hey,” David says when he finally answers. He sounds tired, Patrick notes, but that’s not necessarily unusual, considering it's just before noon and David's been known to sleep very late on his days off.

"Hi, baby," Patrick says, the term of endearment slipping off his tongue without much thought. He wants to ask how David's feeling, but he doesn't want to push. 

"I saw your note," David says. "I'm heating up the pizza now. Fingers crossed I don't burn the house down."

Patrick laughs, the sound short and startled and maybe a little relieved. Making jokes is always a good sign. "I have every faith in you."

"Then I clearly haven't subjected you to my cooking enough."

"Your cooking isn't _ that  _ bad," Patrick says, and it's true. David can make all the jokes he wants about being a disaster in the kitchen, but the few meals he's made for the two of them were not only edible, but they were  _ good. _ David may not be the greatest chef in the world, but like most things he does, he gives everything he has to making it as close to perfect as possible.

David doesn't argue, which only makes the knot in Patrick's stomach tighten.

Patrick bites his lip and makes a decision. “I’ll be home in an hour or so,” he says. He uses his firmest voice, hoping to leave no room for David to argue.

It doesn't work. “Um? What about the store?” David asks, his voice taking on some of its usual flair in his incredulity.

“We can survive closing early, and we’ve been slow today, anyway," Patrick says, shrugging even though David can't see it.

“But—”

“David," Patrick stops him. "You’re more important to me than the store.”

David is silent for a moment, long enough for Patrick to wonder if maybe the call got dropped. “Okay, one," he says finally, "how dare you say things like that to me when I’m already in a fragile state.”

“Sorry.” Patrick isn’t at all sorry.

“And two, I will be  _ fine _ until you get home. I even got out of bed today, so I’m doing much better than expected." There's a small hint of pride in David's voice, and Patrick can't help but smile. "I don’t need you to come home.”

“David, forget about the store for a second," Patrick says, trying not to let any impatience into his voice. "I know you can handle today, I’ve seen you do it more times than you should have to because you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”

“I  _ just _ said not to say things like that!”

Patrick doesn't even pretend to apologize this time. “Do you  _ want _ me to come home, David?”

The line is quiet again, but Patrick knows his husband well enough to know that call hasn't dropped. He can easily imagine the emotions warring across David's face right now, everything between wanting Patrick there with him and not wanting to burden him. He only wishes he was there in person to reassure David that he could never,  _ never _ be a burden to him.

"Yes," David says in a quiet voice, the war apparently won. "I do."

“Then it’s settled," Patrick says softly. "I'll text you when I leave the store."

“Okay,” David says.

***

The living room is dark save for the small amount of light forcing its way through the closed blinds when Patrick gets home. He’d closed the store in record time, leaving a handwritten note on the door to let customers know they had closed early for the day.

He tucks his jacket into the front closet and tucks his shoes into the cubby on the closet’s floor. He starts to make his way towards their bedroom, assuming David has found his way back into bed, when he hears a quiet, “Hey,” from the couch.

David is curled up with the large fleece blanket Patrick’s mom had given them as a housewarming present, only his face peeking out.

“Hi,” Patrick smiles. He thinks about pulling his phone out of his pocket and snapping a picture, wanting to capture how adorable his husband looks right now, but mostly he just wants to join him on the couch and kiss him hello. So he does.

It’s a short and sweet kiss, nothing more than a hello. “Hi,” he whispers again when he pulls back.

“You said that already,” David says. He pulls himself up into a more upright position, leaning into Patrick’s shoulder when he sits next to him. “I’m glad your home.”

Patrick almost doesn’t hear him for the softness of his voice and the way David’s pressed his face against his shoulder. “I am, too,” Patrick says, moving to wrap his arm around David’s waist and pull him closer.

They sit like that for a while, secure in the silence and each other’s warmth. Patrick’s eyes catch on the chest on the other side of the room and gets an idea.

“Hey, have you showered today?” he asks.

David pulls away and fixes Patrick with a suspicious squint. “Are you implying I smell?”

“Oh, it’s abysmal,” Patrick deadpans.

“Mm, okay, you’re  _ very _ rude,” David says. 

Patrick laughs. “You’ll feel better if you do,” he says. “Always works for me, at least a little bit.”

David says nothing, looking wholly unconvinced.

“I’ll get whatever you want for dinner while you do,” Patrick offers.

“Ugh, fine,” David says, standing and taking the blanket with him. “Honestly, I just want pasta.”

Patrick smiles and stands, stepping into David’s space and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll make spaghetti, then.” He pulls the blanket off David’s shoulders, laughing when he pouts. “You can’t take a shower with a blanket, David.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” David says.

“Go shower, David,” Patrick says, kissing his cheek again and dropping the blanket ceremoniously on the couch.

***   
The living room is set up perfectly, if Patrick does say so himself. He hopes David will like it.

Growing up, Patrick was always the one his friends or cousins went to when they wanted to build a pillow fort. His determination and level head always crafted the most stable forts, not to mention the comfiest. Now, every single throw pillow and blanket they own has been used to carefully construct the best pillow fort Patrick has ever made. His best work yet, he thinks.

He really,  _ really _ hopes David likes it.

Upstairs, Patrick hears David padding around their bathroom. The shower had stopped a few moments before, and Patrick smiles as he imagines David completing his daily post-shower skin care regiment. On days like this, David usually shortens it, focusing only on the essentials. That seems to be the case today, too, because just as Patrick is plating their spaghetti, he hears the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

Quickly, Patrick sets the two plates on the picnic blanket spread in the middle of their pillow fort. There’s a bottle of David’s favorite wine, too, and he’d pulled out their ever expansive rom-com collection for his husband to choose from. He hurries to the hallway, blocking David’s sight into the living room before he could round the corner.

“You were right,” David says unceremoniously. “The shower did make me feel better.” He stops just in front of Patrick, and Patrick knows he means it. His eyes are brighter, like there isn’t so much weighing him down inside as before.

“Good,” Patrick says, taking his hand. “I’m glad.”

David squints at him. “You’re up to something.”

Patrick molds his expression into one of sheer innocence. Or maybe it’s a bit too shit-eating, from the way David’s eyebrows furrow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, okay,” David nods. “So you just decided to block my path into the rest of our house for no reason, then?”

“Okay,” Patrick acquiesces. “I  _ might _ have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” He waits with eyebrows raised, but Patrick only grins. David sighs. “I don’t do well with surprises.”

“I know,” Patrick says. “But I think you’ll like this one. If you don’t, it won’t be a big deal to undo, I promise.”

“Undo?” David asks. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Patrick only chuckles. “Trust me.”

“I do,” David says. He looks at Patrick for a moment, the love clear in his still tired eyes. “Lead the way.”

Patrick brings their intertwined hands to his lips and presses a kiss against his knuckles. He steps back, leading David into the living room and watching his expression as he takes in Patrick’s handiwork.

David’s hand tightens around Patrick’s. “You...you did all this?”

Patrick kisses his hand again in answer. “Come on, dinner’s getting cold.” He leads him over to the picnic he’d set up. “We can watch whatever movie you want, too,” he adds as David finds a seat among the cushions and pillows.

He’s smiling, Patrick notes with pride, and it’s the first real smile he’s seen on David all day. “I love you,” David says. “You’re ridiculous and I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Patrick sits next to him, nudging the box of DVDs in David’s direction. “Go on, pick our entertainment for the evening.”

“Oh,” David teases, “so formal.” He peruses the collection for a moment before pulling one out victoriously.

“‘13 Going on 30’?” Patrick asks, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.

“I’ll have you know it’s a  _ classic, _ Patrick. A classic!” David exclaims. “How dare you insult my chosen comfort movie.”

“You’re right,” Patrick smiles. “I apologize for my grave error.”

“You’d better,” David grumbles as Patrick takes the DVD to put it in their player. He picks up his plate, swirling some spaghetti around his fork as Patrick settles back against the pillows. “Thank you,” he whispers, “for today. For being here.”

Patrick shuffles closer so their knees and shoulders bump. “Thank you for letting me be here,” he says, “because there’s no where else I’d rather be.”

“I told you to stop saying things like that when I’m fragile,” David groans, and Patrick pretends not to see the well of tears in his eyes. Instead, he turns and presses a mumbled  _ Sorry _ and a kiss to his husband’s shoulder before turning his attention to the beginning movie.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated 💖  
> Find me on Tumblr and Twitter @banesapothecary


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